When she got to the third floor, Jo was just disappearing into the second office down the hall. By the time Ally got there, still panting as if she’d run a marathon, Jo was sitting in a chair next to a large desk, furiously scribbling notes and still talking as if Ally had been right behind her all the time.
“Oh,” Jo said, startled, looking up. “What was the holdup?”
Ally dropped into a chair and struggled to catch her breath. “You’re kidding me.”
Jo didn’t crack a smile.
Perfect. Attila the Hun. “I don’t seem to be in quite the same physical peak that you are.” Though she would be, come hell or high water. She was going to do whatever it took to do this right.
“You’re out of shape?” Jo looked over Ally’s body with a trained eye, and Ally squirmed, knowing what she saw-too many soft curves instead of tight, toned muscle.
Could she help it she favored cholesterol over exercise?
“What is it that you do again?” Jo asked politely.
“I’m a librarian.”
No matter. She was now going with gusto. Soon as she could breathe again, that is.
“I meant what do you do for exercise?”
“Oh. Um…” How to admit that exercise had always been at the bottom of her priority list, right next to getting her annual flu shot?
“You don’t do any of it, do you?” Jo seemed disgusted. “No running, no swimming, no biking, nothing. I think I knew the truth when you put your jacket on the ski rack instead of the coatrack.”
“Dead giveaway, huh?” Ally winced. “Well you might as well know right up front, I don’t know much about this outdoor stuff, but I’m a quick learner.” She smiled in what she hoped was a nonworried manner. “I’ll be fine.”
Jo remained unconvinced. “Chance is swamped right now. We’re understaffed and overworked, and he’s picking up all the slack.”
“That’s why I’m here. I’m going to start helping right now. I’m going with him to work on the fire-damaged trails.”
“He’s not going to like being held by back a novice climber.”
“Uh-huh.” Jo’s tone implied she doubted Ally would be much help in easing
Gee, Ally hadn’t noticed. “Like I said, I plan to help.”
“The work is not only time consuming, but dangerous. And he’s got Brian to deal with, dogging his heels, trying to match his every move-”
“That sounds even more dangerous.”
“No kidding. The kid is trouble.”
Ally reminded herself that she was no longer trying to save the world, no matter how much her heart squeezed. And it wasn’t just Brian it squeezed for, but Chance, too. He might be tough, and gorgeous, but there was something in his dark eyes that called to her.
She hoped to ignore that call. “Maybe with an extra person around to help watch out for Brian, things will be smoother.”
“Hmmph.”
Ally’s automatic apology for being who and what she was sat right on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. She would
Jo softened slightly. “Well at least you have the best mountain manager available. Chance’ll cover you, whether he likes it or not. He won’t let anything happen to anyone on his turf.”
Was he really that good at his job, or was Jo’s clear adoration something more? Ally told herself she didn’t care, but she couldn’t get that hug Jo had given Chance out of her head. What would it be like to be plastered against that amazing body of his? “Has he been here long?”
“Ten years. His exploits on this mountain are legendary.”
“He must have started young.”
“Lucy once told me he came here before he was twenty, and as green as can be.” Jo smiled. “Hard to imagine Chance being green at anything.”
“But even he had to start somewhere.” Ally leaned forward earnestly, never more determined. “I can do this, Jo. I understand your reservations, but I’m going to make this work.”
Maybe she’d failed at being a librarian. At being a girlfriend. At just about everything so far, but she wouldn’t fail at this, whether they believed in her or not. “Just show me where to gear up. And I’ll be ready to go.”
IT TOOK LESS THAN five minutes in the lodge shop to realize every single staff member-the same who had looked at Ally with their polite, distant and disappointed smiles-absolutely revered one T. J. Chance.
They respected him, emulated him.
Loved him.
If she could accomplish a fraction of that in her time here, she’d be ecstatic. By the time she got outside, wearing her new boots, leggings and a T-shirt layered with a lightweight jacket, Chance was gone.
“He just left,” she was told when she asked about him.
Not a surprise. Determined, she took off on the trail pointed out to her, running, hoping to catch him.
Which she did, literally, only a moment later, when she came around a blind turn and plowed right into the back of six feet two inches of bad attitude.
“Sorry,” she said when he whipped around to glare at her. But she wasn’t sorry, not really. If anything, she was feeling that funny weak-knee thing again. And all because her hands had slid over his warm, solidly muscled back. Her nose twitched for another sniff of his skin. “You didn’t wait for me.”
He just looked at her.
“But I found you anyway.”
“Yippee.” He rolled his shoulders, as if just her presence brought him tension. “Now you can go back.”
“No.”
He sighed as if in great suffering. “Then stay out of the way.”
“But I’m going to help.”
A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, and in response, she sent him a sweet but determined smile.
“Grab a shovel,” he growled, pointing to where there was a small clearing. There were tools lying in boxes. “On the other side of that is the first foot trail, which can’t be cleared by machine. There’s already a few guys there working, including Brian.”
“Okay.” But he was already moving away from her. So she purposely switched her attention from him to her surroundings. The flames had wrought destruction all around her, taking away lush, healthy mountain side, leaving a charred, blackened, silent mess. It made her feel a terrible sadness.
Grabbing a shovel, she started in silence, sobered by the sight and how much work was in front of all of them. She thought of Lucy, and how worried she was, and that worry became Ally’s, because she’d promised to help. She intended to keep that promise.
But after two minutes of lifting the shovel, her shoulders already hurt. She distracted herself by watching Chance attack his area.
She couldn’t help herself.
The way his arms worked, muscles straining, skin tanned and taut and damp, was distracting. Up and down, he wielded that shovel, clearing the trail with a single-minded determination, never hesitating. It was mesmerizing, the way he was in total command of himself and all around him. It fascinated her.
Then his broad shoulders straightened as if he’d drawn a deep breath. He paused, feet wide apart, his hair blowing about his shoulders, surveying the destroyed land before him. Burnt pines towered above, shading him,
